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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26087317">Love me just as much</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/smartforholmes/pseuds/smartforholmes'>smartforholmes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Love and lost. [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Long-Suffering Greg Lestrade, M/M, Overprotective Sherlock Holmes, Protective John Watson, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:48:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,627</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26087317</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/smartforholmes/pseuds/smartforholmes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The long and endless road of Gregory Lestrade trying to move on from a broken heart.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Greg Lestrade &amp; John Watson, Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Mycroft Holmes/Lady Smallwood, Sherlock Holmes &amp; Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Love and lost. [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1902919</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>46</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Love me just as much</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Based on the song 'Girl Crush' by A Little Big Town; I used Harry Styles' version as an inspiration for this story.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gregory Lestrade could still recall the endless nights beside the elder Holmes. Late late nights where his chest magically transformed into a refugee and his arms into shields, childishly trying to protect Mycroft from the phycological abuse and trauma the events at Sherrinford caused him.</p><p> </p><p>It's a complete lie to possibly imagine Greg did not enjoyed those days with Mycroft; it's a complete lie to put into words Greg's dislike on staying awake for hours, drinking tea or refilled glasses of scotch, talking and comforting the younger man. Caressing his perfect factions or holding him tight against his torso as he cried.</p><p> </p><p>Perhaps it was around that time his feelings towards the most dangerous man on England became clear as the Maldives' water on a Summer day. After all, the appreciation and <em>love </em>Mycroft Holmes showed him as a gratitude for his support in those difficult times proved him everything was mutual.</p><p> </p><p>But stories like this never have a perfect ending. It never does. Because after all, it's real life and not an odd fairytale.</p><p>...</p><p>Several weeks after his short stay in Mycroft's residence, he spotted a black Suburban outside the Yard, from where Anthea emerged, marking her way to the entrance of the building. Soon enough, he heard a soft knock on the door.</p><p> </p><p>“C'mon in," he shouted, going back to classify his paperwork. After hearing the door crack open and then close, he spoke. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Anth?"</p><p> </p><p>“First of all, I specifically told you <em>not </em>call me that," She spat, but then laughed softly. “Mr. Holmes asked for you to come to his office <em>as soon as possible</em>, he inquired, and I quote 'I need to speak to DI Lestrade, it's a rather personal and urgent topic we need to discuss about'."</p><p> </p><p>Those few words were enough to stop Greg from his task, worry setting on his abdomen. “Jesus, it's quite urgent, am I right?" The woman nodded, and focused her attention on her phone.</p><p> </p><p>“Before you ask, no, I do not have any idea of such <em>personal matter,</em>" Anthea added, looking at the hesitation on the dark eyes. “but he specified his urgency on you to show up."</p><p>...</p><p>"<em>Gregory</em>," The elder Holmes interrupted, his left hand holding his index finger up. "do you know why I required your presence in my office today?" At the silence governing the place, Mycroft continued. "<em>It was to inform you I</em> <em>find myself involved in a</em> <b><em>joyous </em></b><em>relationship with Alicia Smallwood.</em>"</p><p> </p><p>Oh.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Oh.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Greg's heartbeat stopped at the words that came out from Mycroft's mouth, his whole body tensed and he found his brain not cooperating with him. This may have took the place of being shot from the most painful things he has ever endured.</p><p> </p><p>"Detective Inspector?" Holmes asked, confused at the sudden reaction from whom he considered a <em>close friend. </em>"Greg, are you alright?"</p><p> </p><p>Lestrade's response was to turn around and walk unsuspiciously fast towards the exit, trying helplessly to hold the tears forming on his eyes. "I have to go." He limited himself to say.</p><p> </p><p>It was a matter of seconds for Mycroft to get up from his chair and stop Gregory from running away, grabbing his bicep between his elegant and long fingers. His eyes showed worry, and his heart ached at the thought of losing his close friendship with the DI.</p><p> </p><p>"Are you aware my feelings towards are still the same, correct? I still hold a dear place in my heart that belongs to <em>you</em>, Gregory." Mycroft whispered, in an attempt to keep the silver haired by his side.</p><p> </p><p>The older man simply nod, looking directly at the familiar blue orbs, ones he adored in silence. "I know." With that, he abandoned the building.</p><p>...</p><p>“I have a girl crush.” Lestrade slurred, holding a beer on his right hand and a glass of scotch on his left.</p><p> </p><p>John Watson arched an eyebrow, confused and surprised by such confession coming from the drunk man before him. “Oh, is that so?”</p><p> </p><p>Greg nodded, took a sip from his glass and whipped away some of the few tears that painted his face. “D'you wanna know on whom?” John smiled as an answer. “Lady Bigwood... No, S-Smallwood.”</p><p> </p><p>Now it was the time to get worried. Maybe Greg was suffering from alcohol poisoning and all John did was make fun of his behavior. But Lestrade looked so sure of himself after that statement.</p><p> </p><p>“Excuse me what? Did I heard you correctly? <em>You </em>have a <em>crush </em>on <b><em>Lady Smallwood?</em></b><em><b>”</b></em> The soldier asked, switching any minute now on Doctor mood.</p><p> </p><p>Greg laughed, but it sounded more like a sob. “Yeah, I wanna taste her lips, y'know? They taste like <em>him.</em><em>”</em> Oh, now everything made sense. “I wanna... I wanna drown myself on a bottle of her perfume, I wanna have her bloody magic touch.”</p><p> </p><p>His voice trembled, and he held onto the wooden table for balance. “<em>maybe he'd want me just as much...</em><em>”</em> From the Detective Inspector's eyes, fresh tears started to fall non-stop.</p><p> </p><p>Bloody hell, Greg went full-on Little Big Town. And all it took was a bottle of scotch and his favourite beer.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, you're done, mate. Let's get you home before you make a scene.” John said, unfortunately too late.</p><p> </p><p>Before he had the chance to help the DI, Greg lunched forward, vomiting.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, for God's sake, Greg!” He exclaimed, his voice full of authority and anger. This obviously was a huge hit on the oversensitive DI, who started tearing up.</p><p> </p><p>“'M sorry, John. 'm sorry... such a fuck up, a fucking mess...” The older sobbed, hiding his face between his hands, his shoulder shaking uncontrollably. John's fury fade away as soon as he saw the reaction by his friend.</p><p> </p><p>“No, no, I am sorry, okay? Here, just rely on me so we can get to your car and I can take you to Baker Street.” John offered, getting up and standing beside the weeping male.</p><p> </p><p>Greg instantly accepted the offer and held onto John's strong shoulders, his right hand grasping the front of Watson's jacket. Together, they managed to get to the BMW property of the DI.</p><p> </p><p>After setting him on the passenger's seat, Greg took John's wrist with a little too much strength. “I-I I can't go to Baker Street... Sh-Sher-lock will moke me." Lestrade trailed off, his eyelids dropping.</p><p> </p><p>John put his hand on top of his, caressing it with his thumb reassuringly. “Don't worry about Sherl. We got you, mate. Just sleep, yeah? We will be there soon.”</p><p> </p><p>With that, John drove him to Baker Street, being received by a confused Sherlock.</p><p>...</p><p>After all, Sherlock showed a side of him Lestrade never anticipated. It was not about thinking the Consulting Detective was an emotionless bastard, but sometimes he could be painfully honest at the worst moments. Greg could've never imagined Sherlock being kind towards him during crime scenes, nor remembering his first name ever since the disastrous encounter with his older brother. The curly haired man found himself actually worried about the Inspector.</p><p> </p><p>And no, not because his mental stability could compromise his presence at solid 8 cases. It was an awkward hint of worry on his lower abdomen that stopped him from being rude.</p><p> </p><p>Also John played a huge part on this; the soldier constantly reminding him of the vulnerable state their friend was, made him know that perhaps it was good after all to be polite and respectful towards someone else's feelings.</p><p> </p><p>In case anyone wondered, Sherlock Holmes could not be perfect at this 24/7.</p><p> </p><p>It was one cold night in December when one of his comments took down the DI, when the sudden news caused Lestrade to quite <em>literally </em>collapse in a crime scene.</p><p> </p><p><em> <b>"my idiot brother's love life is sickening, incredibly so that he even had the decency to call me for my blessing to marry Lady Smallwood.</b> </em> <em> <b>”</b> </em></p><p> </p><p>After a series of slaps from John Watson, Sally's preoccupation and Sherlock's unstoppable apologies, Greg managed to wrap up the case and go home.</p><p>...</p><p>Time started passing by agonizingly slow. Every single day seemed like a fresh start to Hell. Greg couldn't tell when was the last time he had a proper night of sleep. And even if he did, the alcohol in his system and in consequence, a horrific hangover prevented him from remember it.</p><p> </p><p>Even though it was common to appear pale, with dark bags under his eyes and sometimes throwing up beside a corpse, he managed to perform his work perfectly. That apparently earned him the title of Detective Chief Inspector. The happiness lasted only a few days, after he realized it was all because of one Mycroft Holmes' influence. All of it in an attempt of convincing Gregory to talk after long lasting months.</p><p> </p><p>Greg wanted nothing to do with that bastard.</p><p> </p><p>He had enough by seeing his face and his <em>fiancé's</em> in every newspaper's title page. He had enough by looking at the glowing ring on Alicia's fourth finger and the beautiful smile that painted her face. He had enough by reading over and over again how Mycroft described her as the person who saved him from his inner demons.</p><p> </p><p>He had enough.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>He had enough.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> <b>Had he?</b> </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He asked himself that question frequently, with a bottle of Vodka on his system and his gun lying limply from his tired fingers. Sobbing. Screaming. Smashing things. Destroying his flat.</p><p> </p><p>It wasn't the first, nor the last time he put the gun on his mouth, sobbing and closing his eyes shaking like a leaf, praying for a miracle. Praying for the pain to just stop.</p><p> </p><p>It was Sherlock who found him, the younger Detective invading his flat to get a cold case because of his boredom. Never imagining he would be a witness of the closest thing he had to a father in the verge of commiting suicide.</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock fled to his side, taking the gun out of his hands and throwing it to the floor. He immediately welcomed Greg to his chest as he crumbled to pieces and started sobbing, his hands holding onto Sherlock's coat. Holmes held him while humming a quiet song Rosie adored profusely, on a desperate attempt of calming the DCI enough to call John.</p><p> </p><p>Minutes turned into hours, hours of quiet sobs and hiccups, of apologies, of words of encouragement, of empty promises of getting help.</p><p> </p><p>In the end, it was John who called Sherlock, the clock hitting 3:00AM and the pouring rain hitting the window of Lestrade's residence. The duo migrated from the chair Greg was sitting on to the large settee, his body finally shutting down due the lack of food and water, relaying on Sherlock's torso. John found them that way, Lestrade asleep on the detective's chest and Sherlock stroking the long grey hair in silence, a look of concern on his face.</p><p> </p><p>“I'm about to commit murder if you allow me to,” Sherlock whispered, his hand covering Lestrade's ear. “and the victim will be my <em>dearest brother</em>.” He hissed, an alarming amount of anger glowing on his blue eyes.</p><p> </p><p>"Sherlock...” John started, sitting in the arm of the settee, next to his partner. “This is something Greg has to deal with <em>alone, </em>you can't control who your brother loves and who he doesn't.” This just caused the younger to snort.</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock looked at him in the eye, trying to poorly communicate without words what he was feeling. “This is going to kill him, John. Are you <em>that </em>incredibly stupid?” Sherlock's eyes shined with tears, the rage replaced by preoccupation. “Mycroft is doing this as a failed trial of avoiding his feelings. Avoid<em> who he truly loves.</em> And that is going to cost us the life of an incredible human being, so help me God if I allow that.”</p><p> </p><p>Watson observed how Sherlock laid his chin on top of Greg's head, closing his eyes and sighing deeply. “All we can do now is be here for him, Sherl.” John articulated due the knot on his throat. “I-I... Shit, I can't promise you he will be alright, love. But we can try everything in our hands, yeah?” The blonde said in a thin voice, his hand on top of Sherlock's.</p><p> </p><p>The younger Holmes stared at his Doctor's eyes, nodding and holding tighter the considerably thinner form of the DCI. “Turn off the lights before you go. Oh, and take the gun with you.”</p><p> </p><p>“You are incredibly mad if you believe I will leave you alone. I'm staying, Mrs. Hudson is watching out Rosie. And don't worry, I'll take the gun before you know it.” John winked and smiled lovely at his lover, earning another grin in return.</p><p>...</p><p>“What the <em><b>fuck </b></em>are you doing here?” Sherlock hissed at his older brother who just appeared in front of the entrance of his flat.</p><p> </p><p>If you asked Sherlock, Mycroft looked <em>miserable. </em>Like he hadn't slept in several days, his always elegant presentation long forgotten. On any other day, Sherlock would've worried <em>just a little bit, </em>but right now all he could feel while looking at his brother's eyes was homicidal rage.</p><p> </p><p>Mycroft held on tightly to his umbrella. “I was informed about DCI Lestrade's suicidal behavior.” Mycroft whispered, his eyes looking down in complete embarrassment. “Anthea let me know he was brought here by you and Doctor Watson, am I correct?”</p><p> </p><p>“Now you care, don't you? After all the bullcrap you thought he deserved.” Sherlock said, deciding not to control his emotions. “If you are here for mere compromise, I'm going to ask you to leave my flat, now.”</p><p> </p><p>Mycroft smiled sadly towards his baby brother. “Your thoughts about me are incredibly poor, brother dear.” From the elder Holmes brother's eyes a couple of tears fell. “Despite the <em>unfortunate</em> events DCI Lestrade and I have experienced, I still care deeply about him. You must know that, Sherlock.”</p><p> </p><p>It was Sherlock's turn to smile at those words. “Oh, yes? Then <em>why on Earth a</em>re you lying to yourself, Mycroft?” A pair of widened pale eyes looked at him. “Oh, please. Don't make me say it, dear. We both know this engagement is just a way to avoid how you <em>really </em>feel.”</p><p> </p><p>“You are nobody to decide over my love life, Sherlock. Don't be a child.”</p><p> </p><p>“Am I the child? Seriously, Mycroft. I, the younger brother, the drug addict, the sociopath, the unstable sibling, the <em>junkie </em>you had to look out for and eventually sobered up enough to have a <em>beautiful family waiting for upstairs. </em>Maybe Mummy was right, maybe I am indeed the grown up.” Sherlock exasperated, a mortal mix of hidden emotions flowing through his veins.</p><p> </p><p>Mycroft looked at his brother, proud and hurt as a result of his little speech. “And you are unable to know the immense joy that causes me, Sherlock. You are the grown up, as much as it hurts to admit so, <em>you are. </em>Always outstanding at the emotion area, which is <em>not my division.</em>” Both Holmes' smiled, the small reference to the man they <em>both loved </em>easing the dense atmosphere.</p><p> </p><p>“Mycroft, you are an idiot. Plus, there's no way in hell you can tell how bad I want to beat the shit out of you right now for hurting the man that saved me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you... Do you believe he would be able to forgive me for my actions, 'Lock?” The ginger haired asked, a hint of sadness on his ocean eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Perhaps, brother mine. Perhaps he is capable of forgive all the inhumane things you deliberately put him through but not now. Not on my flat, not on my presence.” Sherlock boasted, his hands grabbing Mycroft's shoulders, rubbing them slowly. He approached him, his lips close enough to his ear to whisper a warning.</p><p> </p><p><em>“You may be my older brother, Mycroft; but all he has done ever since we met was protect me from the worst. I'm in the necessity of returning the favour, even if the immediate danger is </em> <em> <b>yourself</b> </em> <em>.”</em></p><p> </p><p>Without expecting an answer, Sherlock pushed Mycroft out of the flat and closed the door. Ignoring his brother's pleads, the younger Holmes climbed the stairs towards his home, knowing his soon-to-be husband, his daughter and vulnerable guardian were waiting.</p><p>...</p><p>“Greg,” Sherlock's voice echoed on the DCI's office, causing the older man to look up. “John called me, said you were in distress. Are you alright?”</p><p> </p><p>Lestrade smiled softly, a welcoming warmth forming on the center of his chest. “I was, but 'm okay now, Sherlock. You didn't have to come all this way.” The consulting detective stared at him impacient, a hint of worry on his blue eyes. “You don't believe me, don't you?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Your loss would break my heart.</em>” Sherlock admitted looking down at the floor, embarrassed.</p><p> </p><p>The DCI got up from his chair and walked towards the younger Holmes brother, a soft smile painted on his tired face. “This is your lucky day, then. 'Cause I'm not going anywhere, kid.” Sherlock looked at him with tears in his eyes, while trying to return the smile. “Not now, <b><em>not ever</em></b>.”</p><p> </p><p>Those four words were enough for Sherlock to wrap his arms around Gregory, inhaling the scent of his hair and feeling the sudden anxiety he has felt ever since receiving John's call fade away. He had the certain his silver haired friend would be beside him for a very long time.</p><p>...</p><p>Everything came to this precise moment, after a countless number of painful nights, the DCI laid with half of his body relying on his Mycroft's chest, his head on his shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>Everything was perfect.</p><p> </p><p>Except there's no perfect ending. All lives end. All hearts are broken.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Caring is not an advantage.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>And, with the light of the moon reflecting on them, Mycroft Holmes learned his lesson, <em>his biggest mistake.</em></p><p> </p><p>His slim arms struggled with holding Gregory's weight, his legs covered with his blood. With tears in his eyes he acknowledged the fact; even after putting him through hell, Gregory still fulfilled the promise he made at an apparent asleep Mycroft Holmes, of putting his life before his own.</p><p> </p><p></p><div>
  <p>
    <em>—I would take a bullet for you if necessary, sunshine.—</em>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The words echoed in his ears, the soft tone of the man he swore never hurt now seemed like the saddest composition of a broken artist. The vigil representation of a broken heart.</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Gregory, my dear, you cannot leave me.” <em>I can't allow you to</em>, his brain completed the sentence. “You needn't had to do that... You still have a brilliant future before your mere eyes.” <em>With or without me.</em></p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>A whimper melt the Ice Man, and unconsciously made him tight his hold on the older man. “'M sorry, My...” Lestrade whispered, his voice muffled by the younger's suit.</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p><em>I tried, </em>Greg attempted to answer, but the tiredness in his veins and the unbearable pain in his chest stopped him from doing so. <em>I tried to live without you. I tried to move on, I tried, I tried, I...</em></p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Gregory coughed, blood pouring out his chapped lips and making all the way down his throat. His lungs felt awfully filled, and he found himself drowning on his own blood. This is it, <b>the end</b>.</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Desperate hands stroked his face, delicate fingers sooth his cheek and careful knuckles caressed his temple. The contact was surprisingly grounding and he knew that maybe dying was not terrifying as he supposed.</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>In the arms of the man he loved until his very last breath, everything could be a heavenly paradise.</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p><em>I want to let go, </em>he thought, while his hands found the front of Mycroft's suit jacket and grabbed it into his fists.</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Then do so, my darling,” Mycroft answered, knowing Greg was no longer able to difference between thinking and saying. “I'm right here, my Gregory, I'm going to be here all the way through. Everything is all right.”</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Sherlock...” Gregory whispered, his breathing slowing down every passing second. “He'll need you, don't... Don't let 'im push you 'way.” <em>He loves you, and he forgives you.</em></p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Mycroft hushed him, his lips pressing against the soft and insanely cold forehead of his beloved. </p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It's incredible how many people believed on the clichés showed on Dramatic movies, on how someone's life passes before their eyes seconds prior an imminent death. If anybody asked Mycroft Holmes about the way he felt in that precise moment, the agonizing body of his <em>one and only </em>on his arms... Without hesitation, Mycroft would have preferred being on his dearest's place.</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Because the copper; DI then DCI; the paternal figure his baby brother looked out for ever since the moment they met; the role model many of his co-workers' children admired; the most selfless and yet bravest man he has ever encountered; the kindest heart; the man with the warmest arms in the world.</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>The man who melt the Ice Man, the man behind the sanity of the British Government.</em>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em> <b>The man he loves.</b> </em>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Wasn't supposed to have such a terrible ending. </p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p><em>It was not fair, </em><b><em>not at all</em></b>.</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Without warning, tears started to fall from the pale blue eyes of the elder Holmes. And a series of sobs wrecked his body while trying to hold on for dear life to <em>his </em>Gregory's deadweight.</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p><em><b>“I love you, Gregory. I love you with the force of the act between two or more nucleons.” </b></em>Greg smiled lightly, knowing Nuclear interactions are the strongest force on Earth.</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>On the distance, the silver haired DCI heard an ambulance and shouting from two different voices but he could care less, his focus only on Mycroft's broken voice and rapid breathing. The calm, and endless darkness won the fight, and before he allowed himself to be dragged into a place where there's no more sorrow, he managed to whisper.</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>"Love you too."</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>...</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <strong> <em>“Gregory?”</em> </strong>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>fin.</p>
</div><p> </p>
  </div></div>
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